Racial swap-night

CHAPTER SIX

Alyce had not wanted to wait up for Eddie but she could not sleep and the sleeping pill she had taken the other night made her feel so groggy the next day that she did not want to go through that again. She tossed and turned and tossed so more, every few moments looking at the clock which seemed almost to have stopped, time was going so slowly. Finally at 5AM when she could see a little bit of daylight beginning to filter through the bedroom drapes, she heard him. She was too distraught for a confrontation with her husband so she feigned sleep; although she lay under the blankets like a coiled spring, listening to him undress. After what seemed like hours, Eddie crawled into bed beside her.

Still pretending that she was sound asleep, restlessly, she moved closer to him, snuggling into his back and throwing an arm over his body. Eddie turned away, gently removing her arm, and moved away to his side of the king-sized bed.

Feeling like she had been punched in the stomach by his unconscious rejection of her, Alyce smothered her face in the pillow and tried to keep from screaming out her sorrow.

The next day there was to be some sort of open house at the tennis club for new members so Eddie did not have to get up early. He rose and went downstairs to make his protein drink in the blender. Alyce was sitting in the kitchen, tensely, going over the newspaper with blank eyes and she did not greet him when he came into the kitchen.

Complete silence reigned although the atmosphere was charged with vibrations so heavy they could have been sliced and packaged.

Eddie dressed and almost left the house without saying goodbye when he remembered something.

"Oh, by the way, Alyce, don't forget we're going over to the Marsdale's tonight…"

"Okay," she said, not looking up from her paper.

Then he was gone. Alyce got up and watched him until he was out of sight, then she slammed the door and stumbled up to her bedroom in a fit of rage. At least he could have the decency to let me know what he's up to, she fumed. I am owed some kind of explanation for his behavior the last week. If it's another woman, I want to know. I have the right to know.

Realizing that she was hardly going to solve any of her problems by lying in bed, she decided to busy herself with some of the things she had been putting off. Still angry, she began wandering around the house picking up the dirty clothes to take to the laundry. In the bathroom hamper she found one of Eddie's tennis shirts and covering the little embroidered racquet in the corner was a big smear of red lipstick!

Alyce thought she almost could have rationalized that lipstick. It could have been an enthusiastic student or something but it was the hardened, thick glob on the inside of his shorts that convicted him in her mind. She stared at the whitish blob of his cum and knew now without a doubt that he had been with another woman! Eddie, her husband of three months was tucking around!

Once again, feeling like she had been punched in the stomach, Alyce wondered just how much she could stand. Dully, she walked over to the sofa, not feeling like taking her husband's cum-stained laundry to the cleaners but not knowing what else to do.

Dully, her eyes fixed themselves on the small bar. She went to it, like a magnet poured herself a stiff tumbler of scotch and drank it off in four gulps, feeling the fiery liquid boil into her guts, numbing her brain and tingling through her tense body. She wanted to stop the raging thoughts; push them into oblivion, anything to blot out the memory, the knowledge that her husband was already involved in an affair with another woman after only a few months of marriage.

Alyce was confident of her looks, indeed she knew that she was beautiful and desirable. As if to check, she went into the bathroom, removed her robe and looked at herself in the full-length mirror.

Critically, she examined her reflection, smoothing her hands over generous breasts and the swell of hips and thighs, turning to look at the rounded, firm buttocks and finding no flaw in her svelte figure. She knew that she was fully developed, feminine and capable of much love.

Now, she examined the soft, fleecy triangle of her pubic mound, turned to examine, in turn, the tight split of her vaginal opening; finally, standing again, using her hands to pull up her breasts to full mounds of femaleness, trying to pose provocatively, lewdly, obscenely. She found the poses totally alien to her character.

Her own face came back into focus and she was startled for a second. She had been sick with worry and her face showed it.

What am I going to do?

Suddenly the front doorbell sounded and Alyce barely hesitated. She certainly was not in the mood for any company but she did not want to be caught in the middle of the day still in her bathrobe. Hurriedly, she grabbed a summer shift from the closet, shrugging it on over her and smoothing it down over her hips and breasts not bothering to put on panties or a bra. Rapidly, she ran a brush through her golden hair and went to answer the front door.

Standing there his hands on his hips not in his usual tennis garb was Clay Marsdale, her husband's boss.

She was startled. "Why, Mr. Marsdale, what can I do for you? Eddie's already gone over to the open house."

"I didn't come here to see Eddie," he said in a very stern sounding voice. "May I come in? It's important."

"Oh, certainly," she swung the door wide for him. "Please come in. Forgive me. I'm a little out of it today," she said, stumbling over her words.

Marsdale entered and sat down on the edge of a chair and refused her offer for refreshment, liquid or otherwise.

"Something very important has come up," he said in a very menacing tone.

Alyce was really mystified. Why would Clay Marsdale have anything important to discuss with her?

"What is it, Mr. Marsdale?" she began. Worriedly, she sank down on the sofa, being careful of the manner of her sitting, aware that she had no underwear on in front of this strange man.

Clay leered at her barely able to conceal his lust. His eyes had caught the fact that she was not wearing anything underneath her summer shift; additionally, he had caught the smell of liquor on her breath, and he knew that all was not well in the Frampton household.

"Mrs. Frampton, there's no need now for beating about the bush," he said his lips pulling back into a tight line. "No doubt, you are aware of the fact that your husband did not arrive home until almost daylight and that he probably offered no explanation for his behavior."

Alyce gasped and covered her face from him with acute humiliation. She didn't answer him. Dear God, did everyone know about Eddie's infidelity except her?

"You know, don't you?" his voice was harsh, demanding.

"Yes," she said dully.

"Do you have any idea where he was during those long hours away from you?" he probed unmercifully, acting like some kind of inquisitor of prisoners.

"No, I don't," her voice squeaked out.

"I know where he was!" He had waited quietly for a couple of moments before dropping his bombshell.

Alyce's reaction was immediate. Her head jerked up. She stared in horror, her face a mask of stunned hopelessness. "Where… how can you know?"

"I know where your husband was because he was with my wife, nina!"

The young blonde wished at that moment that a hole would open in her living room floor so she could be swallowed up and would not have to face this shock and embarrassment. She again covered her lovely young face with her hands, blocking her from his leering gaze.

"With Nina… your wife?" she stuttered out almost inaudibly from behind her hands.

"Yes, in fact, I filmed the entire thing on video tape and I want you to come over to my house to see it," he said.

"Dear God, no!" she cried and flung herself down on the couch, her dress rising with her movement to reveal her long, smoothly tapering legs to the lustful gaze of Clay Marsdale.

He allowed her to stay that way for a few moments, then went to sit beside her on the couch to soothe her with words of sympathy.

"Now, now, Mrs. Frampton. I know how you must feel. How shocking it is to find out that your husband has been unfaithful."

Then, gently, he raised her up, continuing. "But you must remember that I've been cuckolded too. My own wife was with your husband!"

"Of course, you're right," she murmured, "I'd almost forgotten."

"Now, Mrs. Frampton, I don't know what you propose to do about your husband, but I assure you that I am going to take some kind of action and soon!" he said, almost frightening her with the force of his words.

Uncertainty and confusion were swirling through her. She did not want to have to make decisions at a time like this. "I just don't know. I need some time to think…"

Marsdale continued on. "I've had a little more time to think about it. I'm not at all sure that I want to divorce my wife for her… uh… indiscretion. I don't want to go through that at this time. But, I must say that the need for revenge is strong in me…"

Alyce stared at him, wide-eyed, not understanding what he was driving at. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I think that we should pay them back. I think that they should know what it's like to have the same thing done to them!" He smiled at her suggestively, lewdly, his voice taking on a seductive tone.

Alyce turned crimson, fully understanding his proposal now. "Why, Mr. Marsdale, that's absolutely outrageous. I'm not interested in pursuing that line at all."

"But that's the only way that we can make them see the light. Make them confront themselves to know if they really care. It's the only way of getting back our partners," he purred.

His reasoning escaped her, but his smooth convincing presentation of the idea seemed somewhat of a solution. She couldn't agree with him, but neither could she really have any way of knowing what to do in a situation like this where she had no experience. After all, Eddie had certainly broken their marriage vows. But two wrongs do not make a right.

"Oh, Mr. Marsdale, maybe what you say is right. I don't know," she said doubtfully.

"Of course, I'm right," he stated firmly. "Now, let's have a little drink. I feel so uptight, I need something to relax."

"I don't think so…" she began.

"Oh come on, Mrs. Frampton. You do have a drink every once in a while don't you?" he asked, his gaze penetrating her.

He knows. He can smell the scotch I had before he came.

"Okay, what'll be?" he asked, automatically going for the bar and then stopping, "with your permission, of course."

"Go ahead, Mr. Marsdale," she said, her voice disinterested, lifeless, now all thoughts on her husband's adultery.

"Maybe we can get a little less formal. My name's Clay. May I call you Alyce? I hope if we are contemplating some plan of action we are at least going to be on a first name basis."

The young blonde wife was really shocked now. "You don't really mean that you're considering… what you suggested… intimated… before…?"

"I don't see why not?" he leered. "What's sauce for the goose is…"

She was visibly disturbed. She had no intention of pretending or otherwise to be an adulteress.

Marsdale poured some stiff drinks and brought one over to her.

They sat and chatted while Alyce nervously sipped the glass of straight scotch, and before she knew it the glass was empty. Clay watched her closely.

He moved in quickly. "Another drink, my dear?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I rarely drink. Well, all right, but just a small one this time, it's still afternoon."

The scotch was beginning to make her feel a little reckless; additionally a small bolt of electrical energy had balled itself, racing through her body, along her nerve endings to unleash its force in a gigantic stab at her genitals. The pleasant, though unusual, sensations produced in her naked loins beneath her dress signaled that she was feeling the effects of the alcohol. She recognized the sensual sensations, but she was sure that she was in complete possession of her mind and senses.

While Clay was pouring her another drink, she tried not to let the image of her husband copulating with Nina Marsdale take shape. How awful! How could Eddie do this to me?

The more she thought about it the more she became aware of the insistent, seething, sensations in her, and thought for a fleeting second that it would serve Eddie right if she were to play at the same game. She soon pushed that thought from her mind. No! I just can't do it!

Clay returned to her, handing her the tall glass of scotch. She looked up at him, seeing him for the first time. She saw a stocky, powerfully built man with dark hair, heavy features, and she noted the satisfied leer on his face as he resumed the seat opposite her, lounging back in it to wait.

That's it! He's waiting like a cat waiting for a canary!

Suddenly Alyce had had enough.

"Mr. Marsdale, I'm not going to have any part of this," she said with determination.

Calmly he said. "It's already been decided. You and I are going to bed and I'm going to fuck you!"

"No!" she gasped. "I won't do it!"

"Let's put it another way then. If you don't then your husband will be out of a job."

"You wouldn't…"

Marsdale remained as cool as a cucumber. "Just finish your drink, Alyce. You're going to enjoy this," he said soothingly.

His words and the alcohol were beginning to have their effect on the confused wife. She slumped back on the cushions of the couch, sliding down dejectedly, her dress riding up to show the smoothness of her thighs. She didn't care now. She was trapped. Everything seemed hopeless. Let him ogle her legs if that's what he wanted.

Clay waited for a few moments before he reached for her, his hand going out to rest gently on her inner thigh, above the knee, feeling the silky, smooth warmth of her as his hand moved upward, slowly, massaging the creamy flesh until he had reached the hem of her dress; then her legs parted almost imperceptibly, involuntarily, and he moved on upward confidently, the fingers of his hand exploring her searchingly.

Now he was up to the pubic hair, unconfined, the blonde down of her softly curling crotch inciting him, inflaming him with hot passion.

Alyce sat, unmoving, except for the involuntary relaxing of her thigh muscles to allow him access to the juncture of her thighs, but she was a mass of rolling sensations. Her body had reacted to him against her will, the sensitive nerve endings, inflamed by the liquor, had a mind of their own. She dimly realized that whether or not she wanted it, her reasoning mind was no longer in command. Her body was betraying her. She couldn't help herself.

His voice came in a fog. "Let's go to your bedroom!"

He pulled her, zombie-like, from the sofa and guided her firmly toward the bedroom.

"Get undressed!" he ordered.

Trance-like, Alyce turned her back on him and pulled the dress over her head, then in grim acceptance, she lay down naked on the bed, her legs held tight together, her arms folded over her naked breasts and daring not to look at him.

"Turn over on your stomach!" His voice was getting raspy.

Clay Marsdale, still fully clothed, sat down on the bed. Reaching out stubby fingers, he began to trace the outlines of her loveliness, lightly drawing his hand over her back and down across the swelling protuberances of the twin orbs of her smooth-skinned buttocks; then, down over her legs, allowing the fingers to drift up in the inside of her thighs, back to her smooth, white bottom, where he paused to massage and knead, his fingers digging in on the silky skin.

His voice was soft, seductive now. "You have a gorgeous body, Alyce."

Then his lips were on her neck, kissing her wetly, his tongue tracing along on down her back, crouching over her as he came to her buttocks, on down her legs to the ankles, back up to the knees, paying special attention to the inside surface of them. His mouth was hot on the outside of her thighs, as he approached the juncture, where he burrowed briefly into the mysterious dark crevice.

Finally, after what seemed eons of time to Alyce, he had traversed the full length of her body, down and back up to her neck; then, to her ears, where he inserted the tip of his tongue to tantalize a hole there, running his wet tongue around the rim of it.

The young blonde wife shuddered. The slow burning and banked fires in her were partially uncovered, as he had kissed her, and suddenly, she was aware that her body was a raging inferno of fiery sensations, all of which were being generated in her loins.

Oh no! It's starting to feel like I'm on fire down there! He's driving me crazy. Oh, God. Help me!

"Turn over!" he commanded. "I want to see whether the front of you is as luscious as the back."

Compliantly, she turned to her back. His tongue darted instantly across the tip of one nipple, his mouth dipping to take the whole aureole in his lips while a hand stroked the other breast, cupping the milk white mound, then kneading it hard, his thumb and forefinger teasing the nipple to painful erectness.

Alyce felt the rampaging electricity in her rapidly moistening vagina, and she mewled involuntarily with the pleasurable sensation, knowing that she wanted him. Wanted his cock absorbed into her raging loins.

His tongue trailed moistly across her body, stopping momentarily to screw into her navel, then teasingly on downward to the soft blonde curls at the triangle of her belly and thighs.

Her legs which she had kept clamped tightly together began involuntarily to relax, her thighs opening slightly to his probing of her private, feminine parts. His tongue was now replaced by his hand. He inserted an exploratory finger into the soft, hair-lined crease, forcing it down, until he found the canopied bud of her clitoris and rubbed his hard finger against it, grunting with satisfaction as it began to grow, blood-engorged, under his titillation of it.

Dear God! What's happening to me?

Unexplainably to her, she lost control of her legs. Her thighs suddenly, of their own volition, jerked open wide to him and his head dropped to her cunt, his mouth exploring her until he found the erect, pulsing clitoris in its canopy of slightly darker skin of the fleshy lips of her vulva. She moaned in an agony of pleasure as he found and captured the palpitating button between his teeth and held it lightly, running his tongue in circles around it, decreasing the radius, until at last he released it from his teeth, and his tongue concentrated on the tip of it exclusively.

"Stop it! Please, please, it's driving me crazy!" she moaned in a helpless plea that she knew would not be answered by Clay.

The older man opened his mouth wider and moved downward. His tongue slithered into the viscous moistness of her throbbing cunt. With his head buried in the searing muskiness of her pussy, Clay could hear her whimpering mewls each time his tongue swirled around the inside of her velvety, tumescent and softly hair-lined vaginal opening. He drew her legs up and slid his arms under them so that his shoulders and arms were wedged between her now widely opened thighs. In the midst of tongue-fucking her he suddenly realized that within seconds she would be climbing the walls begging him to fuck her.

Marsdale then slipped both of his hands underneath her thighs and pushed them up further, allowing her legs to drape over his shoulders. He moved his hands on up to her buttocks, feeling the tiny undulations of them and pulled the cheeks up to him, his stubby fingers digging into her soft flesh.

Alyce cried out her pleasure and frustration as she felt his tongue plunge deeply into the liquid depths of her cunt. She wanted more of it. Instinctively, she reached for the thatch on his head, grasping it, tangling her fingers in the bristly scruff, she tried to pull his head farther into her as the pulsing, racing sensations of her passion engulfed her. She was helpless in its thrall, and she could but react animalistically to the sensual sexuality of his probing, searching tongue.

She could no longer think. She knew she had to have release from this punishing torment.

"Clay… I've got to have it… now! I want you to put your thing inside me… and do it…" she mumbled, begging him for release from her frustration.

Clay raised his head from her cunt to leer down at her lewdly. "Oh, so you're getting off at last?" he stated.

"Yes… oh, please, do it to me!" she whispered between tightly clenched teeth, her eyes closed to shut out his obscenely ogling face.

"Say it properly, then!" he said quietly.

The insanely frustrated young blonde knew what he wanted her to say and she cast aside the Mormon Church to get what she wanted for the first time in her sexual life.

"Fuck me… stick your cock in my cunt… I want your cock fuck me fuck me, Clay… now!"

"Marvelous, you beautiful morsel… now, I want you to help me get my clothes off!" Her words were a prod of his own passion. His prick jerked and throbbed in the confines of his clothing. He had waited long and patiently while he had teased and tantalized this luscious piece of womanly flesh to advanced sexual need and he knew that she was going to be hot.

Alyce came off the bed, leaping to obey him instantly. With trembling fingers she helped him to strip off his clothing, gasping in disbelief as his giant cock was released from the imprisoning shorts. "No, my God! It's too huge!" she mumbled involuntarily. She knew her own husband was exceptionally big but this man was a sin against nature, he was absolutely gigantic.

"Don't you love it?" he leered.

"I'm afraid… I don't think I can take it all," she said wide-eyed with fear.

"You should learn more about it then. Take it in your mouth and suck it for a while!"

Instantly, she balked. "You must be mad! That's perverted. I won't! I won't!"

"Jesus Christ! You really are right off the farm, aren't you. What quaint little ideas you have about sex. Suck it, baby. Because I'm telling you right now… no suckee… no fuckee!"

He reached for her, running his hands over her breasts, tile curve of her waist and thighs, cupping her ass, pulling her loins to his and allowing his thick, lust-filled cock to slip between her thighs, the blood-red cowl of it coming to rest on the clitoral bud as he gently but firmly moved his hips against her in erotic stimulation.

The shock of the shiny, smooth head of his cock on her clitoris was almost more than she could tolerate at this point. She began to move in opposition to him, savoring the surging sensations it caused, moving in wild abandon, her hips gyrating and her moist cuntal lips sliding along the length of him.

Suddenly he pulled away from her and sat down on the edge of her bed, holding his prick in one hand, he used the other to pull her to a kneeling position between his legs; then he put his strong hand behind her neck and drew her head to his loins, stopping only when her face was scant inches from his massive member.

"Suck me!" he grunted.

Reluctantly, she lowered her lips to the blood-engorged tip of it and placed her lips there gingerly, kissing that monstrous cock, doing as he bid, knowing in her mind that it was wrong, but doing it because her body demanded orgasmic release from the sexual torture he had been inflicting upon her. Then, with deep revulsion she took the instrument into her mouth, tasting the pungent maleness of him, surprised at the soft, rubbery texture of the head, as she hollowed her lips in and out, sucking it as he had instructed her.

"Use your tongue!" he commanded.

The inexperienced young adulteress touched the head with her tongue and felt the jerking shock of it in him as she swirled her oral member around and around, finally trying to insert the tip of her tongue on the tiny, moistened orifice on the end. His hips began to move, shoving the length of his farther into her mouth.

Strangely, now, she began to feel even more sexual excitement, the pounding, crashing, rhythmic song of desire pulsing through her body demanding its resolution. Then she felt him lie back on the bed, his hands jerking her head upward and away from his ever-growing rod of flesh.

"Now, we'll see how my cock fits in your cunt," he said.

Alyce stood up as he moved his heavy body around to lie straight in the bed, on his back, his cock jutting up like a flagstaff.

"Straddle me, my dear," he said, holding out his arms to her, "ride me like a horse."

The young wife did not hesitate. She was too ready, far too far along. Instantly, she was atop him, her legs straddling his waist. She grasped his giant pole in her hands and guided it, unerringly to the moist warmth of her hungry cunt. She dropped her weight back on him, absorbing all of his prick within her in one movement, his rock-hard flesh ramming up into her vaginal vault, filling her completely and flicking past the tip of the cervix as it bottomed in her.

Suddenly, he flexed his hips upward, driving his cock even further into her as he felt the silky moistness of her pussy enveloping him with throbbing, searingly hot flesh, her body squirming above him uncontrollably.

She began to move now with wild abandon, rotating her hips and driving her cunt up and down his hardened cock, taking all of him in her velvet-lined cunt with each stroke. She found that by inching her body forward and supporting herself on her hands that she was able to move her hips more freely, and she began furiously to pump her soft, quivering buttocks up and down on him, faster and faster in the inexorable rhythm of love, locked fleshily to him by the erect phallus between them.

The fact that this was a new position for the usually shy inhibited wife did not even phase her. She was too absorbed in the concentration of sensations in her cunt. The freedom to move, to command her own direction and to set her own speed was sheer ecstasy, and she was lost in the morass of never-before-experienced sensations.

Bareback and bareassed, Alyce rose him as if she were riding a Brahma bull at a rodeo, taking all of his cock with every jump, unbridled and frantic, fucking him for all she was worth, her hips writhing and pounding against him, rising and falling, swirling in great grinding rotations, her breasts hanging to his chest, the nipples spiking into him, her belly rubbing sweatingly against his hairy loins, as she leaned further forward.

He held the thick length of his prick rigid for her, allowing her to move on him, her wet cunt sliding on his length, out of control. He could not match her beat, so he raised his hips higher, offering up his manhood in sacrifice while she danced the ritual sex dance above him. He put his clenched fists under his buttocks to raise his cock higher to her thrusting, pummeling cunt.

As if going for a blue ribbon, she rode the unbridled, mad bull of a man and it was a never-ending contest, until suddenly she was on the verge of winning the championship. She dashed her mount into it, and she felt it coming at last, a sort of molten lava surrounded and consumed her, the liquid racing through, inside her, and she was at the brink of cataclysmic orgasmic release she strived for which had been denied to her by her newlywed husband.

Clay, beneath her, had finally found the rhythm of her headlong ride and rose to meet her churning movements. He thrust up at her, measuring her with his searing rock-hard cock, trying to bury his fleshy shaft deeper into her belly, until they were one in the blazing, flashing inferno of orgasm.

Rockets lit up her brain as she felt the whole of her quivering, pent-up being brought to the brink, erupting in her belly like a Roman candle shooting forth its colorful stream of sparks into every part of her salaciously aroused body. His plunging cock brought her well-earned, spewing reward from her wildly panting labors.

Beneath her, she heard Clay's harsh cry, frothing forth from his lips, and she could feel the jetting flood of his seminal fluid, sperm-laden, thickly white and viscous, hosing into her from that hardened instrument of lust and pleasure.

"Aauugghhh! It's almost…" And with a desperate and final squatting, ramming motion, she forced his spewing prick deeply into her and she was there! "I'm… aaaahhhhh… ccummingg!"

Alyce Frampton sat up, his jerking cock still moving in her. She threw her arms high as if she had found true happiness at last.

In her dazed sexual reverie she leaned down to Clay and captured his mouth with her own, ramming her tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him, and she was supremely happy and at peace with herself.

And then she remembered something. "Does this mean that Eddie won't lose his job," she asked timidly.

"We'll see, my dear. It depends on your performance tonight. This afternoon is just the preliminary round. Tonight at my house with your husband will be the real test."